She Who Holds the Hero's Heart
by raglanwriter
Summary: Events following Booth's rescue from the Gravedigger. Inspired by spoilers from The Hero in the Hold, but does not really give away much in terms of the episode. Booth's POV. Because I've always thought Brennan would actually be the emotionally brave one


Disclaimer: I don't own Brennan and Booth…if I did, scenes like this would actually happen on the show!!!

**She Who Holds the Hero's Heart**

The water is pounding around me, closing in, and I am struggling for air. With grim certainty, I know these are the final moments of my life and as I begin to succumb to unconsciousness, her face fills my mind. She is like oxygen and I force myself to breathe in- a deep gasp of air- and my eyes snap open to reveal my own darkened bedroom. The sheets are twisted around me and I can feel the damp chill of cooling sweat on my skin. As I bring my hands to my face, the trembling of my arms confirms that I am indeed alive. Looking around the room, I see that the room's door has been left ajar and there is a soft shaft of light falling across the floor. She is still here. The sliver of illumination is like a beacon that I can follow and I do- sliding out of bed, crossing the room and nudging the door open.

The apartment is quiet- she has not bothered to turn on the radio or watch television. There is a cup of tea sitting untouched on the table in front of the couch. I remember Bones making it before I went to bed. My partner is standing at the window staring down at the street below. She is wearing a pair of my sweatpants and an old t-shirt that has my Rangers unit number across the chest. When we arrived back here after our mandatory trip to the hospital, our clothes had been cold and wet. She had still been dressed for the formal event at the Jeffersonian and had needed something dry and comfortable to wear. When I had emerged from the shower, she was just coming out of my spare bedroom, tugging the t-shirt down over her hips. With her damp hair loose and curling around her neck and her slender frame draped in my oversized clothes, she might have looked relaxed, but she didn't. I knew the adrenaline and fear we had faced over the past day would take a long time to ease out of her. Even now, her whole body is rigid- the stiffness of her spine and the tension coiled in her muscles emanates across the room to me. I recognize the posture well as one that I have so often held when standing next to her- she is vigilantly standing guard. A slight tilt of her head acknowledges my presence, but she does not turn to look at me. When she speaks, her voice is soft and laced with weariness.

"I guess the pills they gave you didn't help you sleep afterall." I glance at the clock on the wall beside the television and realize it has only been an hour since I lay down.

"I did sleep, but I had a dream that woke me up." My voice is still hoarse from all the water I swallowed while I was trapped in that ship.

"You mean you had a nightmare," now she turns to face me and her eyes search mine. "I had them too. For a long time after I was buried in the car, I would wake up from these horrible images of Hodgins and me suffocating underground."

I am silent in response to this admission. She has never spoken to me about her own experience with the Gravedigger and I have never asked. I think I was afraid of what she might tell me and what it might reveal about us both. Now it is something else we share- an experience so frightening that it causes you to re-evaluate everything. As I look at her standing there, I think about the promises I made to myself, to her, and to God while I was running out of time. Now that I am safe, I wonder if I will have the courage to follow through. She is still studying me and I can tell that she is giving careful consideration to voicing her next thought. I can see when she makes her decision and when she does ask the question, it is in a tone so deliberately gentle that it makes it hard for me to breathe.

"Did you say goodbye to me?"

I blink back the wetness gathering in my eyes and turn away from her. I know what she is asking and why. She wants to know if I gave up- and if I did, whether I went through some type of farewell ritual to her even though she could not hear me. I think she will be disappointed in me if I answer her honestly and so I say nothing for a long minute. The pause must drag on a second too long- either that or she knows exactly what I am thinking- because she speaks again before I can answer.

"I gave up. After we were rescued, I let you think that I didn't, but I did. I even wrote you a note to tell you good-bye." Her confession startles me. I had never imagined that she had a moment's doubt about surviving- and then my brain registers the second part of her statement. When she had been buried in that car, afraid that she would never see the sunlight again, I had been the one she had wanted to know her final thoughts. "I'm sorry that I lost faith in you. I guess I should have known that you would find a way to save us, but I was just so afraid."

I know what she is doing. Her admission of doubt is a gift. She is telling me that I don't always have to be brave- that it is alright if I lost faith in her, in God, in everything I believe in. As always, she seems to know where my vulnerability lies and she offers acceptance of my faults, of my betrayals, like no one else ever has. She has made it safe to answer her question and to tell the truth.

"Yes. I said goodbye to you." Her head nods as I speak.

"I knew you did- I could feel it." Her acknowledgement of experiencing something so irrational and unscientific took a moment to absorb. I am compelled to step closer to her, but as I do pain shoots up my leg. The cold water in my floating death chamber and the physical exertion of my escape has reawakened old injuries. She sees me wince and reaches out to steady me before leading me to the couch.

I am surprised when she does not sit down beside me and even more surprised when she positions herself on the floor in front of me. Her hands slide around my ankles and she lifts my feet into her lap. I close my eyes when I feel her fingers sweep across the bottoms of my feet and softly wrap around my toes. Her hands are warm and the heat of her skin soothes the ache that I feel in my bones. There is nothing sexual about her touch, but it is not clinical either. Her caresses hold so much tenderness that my heart almost bursts and the air in my lungs feels overheated. When I open my eyes again, her gaze is directed downwards as she watches her own hands move along my insteps. Her fingertips stop when they press against the ridge of a scar that radiates out from my left arch and runs all the way back to the curve of my heel. She has not asked, but I know I am going to tell her.

"It's from the same time as those broken bones you saw in the x-rays." I hear her let out a hiss of air before she lifts her head to look at me. "You were right about those- when you said it looked like someone had beaten the soles of my feet with pipes."

"Booth- you don't have to tell me," she shakes her head as she whispers the words.

"It's alright. I want to tell you- I trust you with my past." Her lips turn upwards in the slightest of smiles to let me know that she appreciates what I am offering. She closes her eyes only once as I tell her the story- when I describe some of the worst moments during my captivity. When I have finished, she opens them again and stares at me for several silent minutes before finally wrapping her arms around my legs and resting her head on my knees. I let my hand drift to the top of her head and stroke the silky strands of her hair. We sit that way for almost an hour and I am wondering if she has fallen asleep when she turns her face towards me.

"I am so sorry that anyone has ever hurt you." The words are thick with raw emotion. My hands grasp her shoulders and pull her up beside me. Her body curves into mine and my arms are solidly wrapped around her. I can't think of anything to say so I just cling to her like I did in the helicopter after she and Jared rescued me. I know there is no fooling ourselves that this is only a friendly embrace exchanged between partners. Her cheek is resting against my bare chest and my hands are pressing hard against her back as if I am trying to actually pull her inside my own body. There will be no turning back from this moment.

"Do you want to know what I said?" I have turned my head so that my lips are almost brushing against her ear when I ask the question. It takes her only a moment to shift backwards in the conversation and understand what I mean. I almost hope she will decline. As soon as I made the offer, I realize what it will mean to tell her.

"Yes," her response is more of a breath than a word. I should have known she would not flinch from looking straight into my soul- she is too strong for that.

"I asked you to forgive me and I promised that I would keep watching over you even after I was gone. I told you that being your partner has meant more to me than any other relationship I've ever had in my life. I wanted you to remember the best times we had together. I hoped that you would keep in touch with Parker so that you could tell him more about me when he is older. I let you know that you are the most wonderful person I have ever known and that I wanted you to try to keep your heart open and find happiness. Those are the things I told you when I was saying good-bye."

After I finished, Bones turned her face further into my body and it took me a moment to realize that the warmth I could feel was her lips pressing into my chest. She had barely lifted her mouth when she spoke and I could feel her lips move against my skin- as though she were speaking directly to my heart.

"Did you tell me that you love me?"

Here is the moment. My mind races as I try to decide if I am brave enough to tell her the truth. These are the promises I made to myself when I was afraid I was going to die. This was the deal I made with God- to own up to my feelings and take the risk. But now, faced with the reality to having to live with the consequences, I find myself unsure. Everyone thinks that I am so resilient and I let them believe that I am a perpetual hero- the fact is that I am a coward. I have accused Bones of being closed off from her emotions and not wanting to feel things, but in actuality, it is me who is the most afraid. I am still struggling to overcome my indecision when she saves me again.

"I only ask because it is what I would have told you," her voice is still quiet, but it is clear and full of conviction. She has made up her mind that we will cross that blurry line I tried to draw between us years ago. "Actually, I did tell you. The whole time we were looking for you, I just kept talking to you in my head, telling you how much I needed you to come home, and hoping that you would hold on. I was desperate and I just thought that maybe somehow if I kept saying that I loved you in my head, you would know and it would help you."

She has, once again, been the fearless one. Her reckless disregard for her personal safety makes me crazy when we are working in the field, but I am completely grateful for it right now. She has put herself on the line – for me.

"I did tell you that I love you- and I hoped, more than anything, that you would know how I feel and that you felt the same. All I wanted was a chance to see you again and tell you that I do love you- so much." My lips are still beside her ear and it is the most intimate moment that I have ever shared with someone. I realize the enormity and the sacredness of what has just happened. She has handed me her heart, and I have offered her mine in return. I know that I will never be alone again and I feel invincible.

I always thought that when Bones and I finally took this step it would be some frenzied, passionate, unrestrained eruption of emotion. Instead, it has been a quiet, gentle, and beautiful release of a truth we have both been holding.


End file.
